


Where The Fuck Is It

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [36]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompt; "Proposal fluff prompt? Ian proposes" </p><p>(Ian tries to propose but he can't find the ring)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Fuck Is It

**Author's Note:**

> I laughed so hard writing this because I know someone who actually lost the ring whilst trying to propose, and the whole time it had been in their back pocket ahahah
> 
> So, I hope you like this!

“Hey Mick?” Ian calls out from the bathroom, his mouth full of toothpaste.

Mickey's sprawled out, like a star-fish, on the sheets, his chest still stuck from sweat from their recent steaming sex. “What the fuck do you want?” He tilts his head to the side, the light from the bathroom flickering as Ian made a racket around the small space.

Popping out from the room, Ian asks, mouth still blocked with toothpaste, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends what it is.” Mickey huffs, pushing the blanket further down his chest to whack off the heat that took over his body. Ian tenses, the toothbrush limp in his hand, rolling his eyes Mickey says, “Spit it out, Gallagher.”

“It's serious.” Ian confesses, running back into the bathroom to spit out the foam forming in his mouth.

Mickey groans dramatically, hiding himself under the blankets despite the heat. He really did hate serious conversations, where you had to preform your feelings, express your gratitude, the things Mickey never showed or wanted to, (well, he liked to do it sometimes). “Fuck off, man. I don't want to hear your serious bullshit.”

Ian rushes from the other room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, launching himself onto the bed, where he flips Mickey over. “It's not bullshit.”

Blinking his eyes rapidly, Mickey tries to push the heavy weight off his chest. “Sure sounds like it.”

The younger boy pouts, pushing out his bottom lip, “It's important to me.”

“Everything is important to you.”

Ian sits up, his legs either side of Mickey, crossing his arms he looks to the side in a huff, “Not this. I've been thinking about this for a long time, can you not be a dick and just listen?” he finally turns to Mickey, his eyebrows raised to his hairline.

Tapping his chest, Mickey wants to laugh at how frustrated Ian was, but he nods with a bite, “Fucking fine.”

Ian leans forward slightly, his hands running across Mickey's chest, fingers trailing over his toned abs and down to his v-line, as he lets out a nervous laugh, “When you and 'Lana got the divorce I was thinking-”

“Ah, shit.” Mickey puts his hand over his eyes, already seeing the future sentence that would be bombarded onto him. Ian's face sheds from nervous to hurt, his eyes narrowing down the brunette that hid himself. “You didn't know what I was going to say?”

The problem was, Mickey did know what he was going to say, he already knew Ian had been planning this. “I can fucking guess.”

“Well don't.” Ian snaps back, huffing out the tension that built up in his chest, he never knew this could be so frustrating. “Just let me say this, okay? Just let me fucking talk.” his eyes keep glancing to the side, gazing over the open drawer of the side-table. It only makes Mickey more intrigued.

“You never _stop_ fucking talking.” Mickey shot back, flopping his hand to the side, looking up at Ian through his lashes. As much as it felt good for Ian to be on-top of him, his nuts were still getting crushed.

“Shut the hell up.” Ian pushes his finger to Mickey's lips, tilting his head in warning. After assuring himself that Mickey would stay quiet, he leans over to the side-table and puts his hand into the open drawer. “Just let me-” he rummages around a little, pushing his hand through the various unworn tops, trying to find the box that he really fucking needed.

Mickey huffs in waiting, rolling his eyes as Ian struggles to find whatever he needs. “Are you looking for fucking Narina in there, what the hell are you doing?” He tries to peer over, but Ian's freehand pushes him back to the sheets.

“I need something else otherwise this ain't going to work.” Ian tells him, hand digging deeper into the drawer, finding nothing but an empty tub of lube and a couple of condoms. “Where the fuck is it.” He mumbles to himself, letting go of Mickey so he could look further. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Ian repeats, releasing himself from Mickey so he could properly try and find the box.

Laughing, Mickey looks to the side. Whatever Ian was looking for he sure as hell wouldn't find it in their heap of a room. “I know, Gallagher, get the fuck on me.” He smirks, swatting Ian's middle finger away when it flew before him.

“Fucking hell.” Ian runs a hand through his hair, standing up and storming over to the dresser at the other side of the room. “I swear to fucking god, I put it in here.”

Sitting up on his elbows, Mickey watches in amusement “Put what in there? I swear man, lets get this show on the road so we can fuck.” He only channels in that Ian's trying to do something nice, when the redhead starts pulling at his hair as he drags the cluttered drawer open.

“You'll know when I've found it and we ain't fucking until I have.” Ian shouts over his shoulder, the shake in his voice clearly from nerves. Grunting, he pushes aside Mickey's countless weapons and tries to locate the black box he's sure he had put in there. “I fucked up. I can't find the fucking ring. This is fucked.” Ian mutters to himself, obliviously, hands chucking pointless things around the drawer.

Mickey suddenly perks up, eyes widening, he would have never expected Ian to be looking for that of all things. “A ring?” He asks, sitting up against the bed.

Ian ducks his head, hands stopping their search, he groans sadly, “For fucks sakes.” He whispers to himself, but Mickey is able to hear it. “I wasn't meant to-” then he realises that he wouldn't find the stupid ring, because he's probably lost it like he loses everything. “You know what, fuck it.” he slams the drawer shut, placing his hands on his hips as he stands at the end of the bed. “Yes, a fucking ring, because I was trying to ask you to marry me, but as always I fuck up and you've probably already got an answer-” He begins to stalk out of the room, “I'm not going to bother.”

Mickey catches his wrist before he can take a run for it. “You don't know my answer.”

Which was true, but Ian could guess by Mickey's reaction that it would be negative. “I haven't asked you.”

“Then fucking ask me.”

Ian's dumbstruck, he's lost all of his words and now his throat won't allow him to form them. Mickey's still got hold of his wrist, head tilted to the side, and Ian still can't say what he wanted to say. Mickey nods for him to continue, gently tugging on his hand so he'll sit on the bed. Ian fiddles with his fingers, knowing that this would have been easier if he found the ring, he feels Mickey squeeze the top of his knee, and he looks up. Breathing in, he tries his best, “Mickey, I, uh, I kind of want to marry you.”

Mickey stares at him blankly, face full of fear, until his lips curl up into a smile. “That's not a question, Gallagher.” Stubborn as always.

Blinking, Ian slaps at Mickey's thigh, rolling his eyes as he prepares himself to say it all over again. “Mickey, you stubborn, obnoxious dick, will you marry me?” It wasn't as romantic as he planned, he had literally written an essay to tell Mickey, but it was better. It was them.

Tapping his chin, Mickey moves his gaze back to Ian, smirking a little, “What do you think I'll say?” He asks, it had been niggling his mind ever since Ian went on a rampage to find the ring.

“No.”

Arching his brow, Mickey feels like he's had a punch to the gut. Did Ian really think that? “Why would think that? Where's your hope, Gallagher?” he presses a dramatic hand against his chest, gasping out mockingly.

Ian looks towards his hands, shrugging lightly. He was still wondering why Mickey came back to him, after all the bat-shit crazy stunts, kidnapping his kid, running away countless times. It still stuck in the back of his mind, the question; why did Mickey stay? But by the look on Mickey's face, the clench in his chest, he hoped he knew why. “I don't know, I just thoug-”

“Well, I'm saying fucking yes.” Mickey cuts him off, clapping his hands together. Even if marriage was a hell of a lot commitment, he still wanted Ian to have his name, he still wanted to be bonded to Mickey forever. "Ian, you level-headed irritating little shit, I want to marry your lanky-ass."

Ian jolts his head up, eyes wide with shock. “Really?”

And Mickey knew that the redhead wouldn't understand his answer, he knew that Ian was expecting a rejection, because Mickey wasn't one for displays of affection, he wasn't one to scream out to the rooftops his feelings. Sometimes it felt good to surprise him. “I ain't having some big-ass wedding, but if we're endgame we might as well get a piece of paper to fucking prove it.”

“Aw, Mick. You think we're endgame?” Ian's heart warms at the fact, nearly bypassing the fact that Mickey just agreed to marry him.

Snorting, Mickey swats Ian away, “I fucking hope so.” He pulls Ian closer to his own body, hand resting at the side of his face – the same gesture he had mastered over the weeks - “Now are we going to have pre-marriage sex or fucking what?”

“I'm pretty sure it's called pre-marriage sex the night before your wedding?” Ian corrects, leaning into the touch against his cheek, he lets Mickey fall against the seats, his own body shadowing his as he hovered above him.

Mickey wiggles his eyebrows, hand trailing down Ian's side. “I really don't give a shit, now are you going to get on me, _fiancé_?”

Even to Ian that word sounded weird, especially when it came from Mickey's mouth, but he shook it off either way – he was getting married to the thug of the neighbourhood, he really didn't care how weird it sounded. Leaning down, he grins, “Jesus, let me fucking breathe. I'm still worried about where I shoved that ring.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Mickey pats his cheek cockily, his other hand trailing lower against its position on Ian's chest, down by his happy trail.”We'll look for it after you've fucked me hard enough that I can't walk.”

“Deal.” Ian catches Mickey's lips into his own, deepening the kiss as Mickey's hand stuck themselves into his hair. He groans against his lips, letting out a slight chuckle when Mickey missed and landed his mouth at the corner of his jaw. Ian tasted like fresh mint, and even though it created a tangy taste in Mickey's mouth, he couldn't get enough. When Ian went to leverage himself up, stopping his body from planting fully on Mickey, he felt something hard under the pillow Mickey's head was laid against. “Wait, what the fuck is that.” He asks, detaching himself from Mickey's mouth.

“What?” Mickey acts oblivious, trying to pull Ian's attention back with a kiss to his neck.

Ian ignores his kisses, more intrigued at the thing stuffed behind the pillow, he pushes the case up – nearly knocking Mickey's face, but oh well – he stuffs his hand underneath it and his eyes widen with confusion mixed with annoyance when he sees its the box he's been looking for. “What the fuck Mickey, why is this under here?”

Shrugging, Mickey puts on his innocent face. “I dunno, you probably left it underneath there or some shit.” He leans up again, but Ian's persistent in finding out how the box happened to be under Mickey's head. Did he know he was going to purpose? When did he find it? Had it been there the whole time?

“You had it the whole fucking time? You did. Didn't you?” Ian pokes Mickey's sides, pouting as he played with the box in his fingers. He feels embarrassed, more for the fact that he had been shitting himself all day and Mickey already knew what he was going to ask. He groans into his hands, knocking his head back in annoyance.

Mickey shakes his head, pressing his lips together. He loved nothing more than making Ian frustrated, hot with flushed cheeks, _nothing_.“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, you do.” Ian tuts, opening the box and retrieving the black ring from inside it. He grabs Mickey's hand, wrestling with him for a couple of seconds to push it on his ring finger. “You're such a fucking dick.” He laughs, as Mickey flips them over and he presses his chin against Ian's chest. Mickey wouldn't say it, but it felt good to have the ring finally on his finger after days of wanting to open the box.

Lifting his hand up, he points the ring wrapped around his finger, cocky grin plastered all over his one – the same one he wore almost five years back. “A dick you want to marry, apparently.”


End file.
